Back in my college days, I read Ernest Cline’s Ready Player One – believe it or not – for a class. It was a light, fast-paced read; the kind of book that’s hard to put down and easy to plow through. But despite its fleeting pleasures, the moment I finished I could feel my inner critic starting to wake up. The more thought I gave Ready Player One, the more cynical my attitude towards it became. Could this collection of pop-culture references tacked onto a generic treasure-hunt plot even be called a novel? These doubts grew so quickly that they completely tarnished my previous enjoyment of the book, and soon I felt duped for having bought into it in the first place. Continue reading →